


to be apart (and back again)

by beggar_always



Category: Inception
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Flashback, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-29
Updated: 2011-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beggar_always/pseuds/beggar_always
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur goes where Eames will not (and cannot) follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to be apart (and back again)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a very long time. It's like, my baby. Or maybe like an unruly teenager. I've fought with several parts of this fic, but in the end I just kinda sat back and let it write itself as it wanted to be written. It actually grew out of a thought I had while writing [time to leave and turn to dust](http://archiveofourown.org/works/179640), but I don't see the two fics as related at all - just alternate forms of headspace. Or something.
> 
> There are "present" parts interspersed with "past" parts, so I feel I should warn/apologize for the timey-wimeyness (and any tense shifts that may be slightly off...).

“Roland is running a job in Havana.” Eames watches in amusement as Arthur’s nose crinkles slightly in disgust. Eames is well aware Arthur can’t stand Roland, he just really enjoys the faces Arthur makes when distasteful suggestions are made to him. “Well, love, we may just have to take that holiday I’ve always threatened you with.” This time, there’s enough of a twinkle in Arthur’s eyes for Eames to know the nose crinkling is a ruse.

“Spending a week in a hotel room is _not_ a vacation. Not when we live out of suitcases as it is,” Arthur argues as he closes his laptop.

“It is when we don’t even bother to pack any clothes,” Eames purrs as he saunters across the room toward Arthur. He can tell the other man is fighting a smile and it makes Eames smirk all the more.

Before he can reach Arthur and drag the point man up by his ridiculously stylish necktie, Arthur’s mobile starts vibrating across the table. They both glare at it, but only Arthur is close enough to read the display. Arthur’s glare intensifies and Eames sighs, knowing the mood has been slaughtered and Arthur’s about to answer the call.

“Yeah?” Arthur answers as neutrally as he is able. Eames is ready to focus his attention elsewhere, to maybe snatch Arthur’s laptop and start looking for remote resort hotels that specialize in poor mobile phone reception, but then he watches a wave of emotions flicker across Arthur’s face.

Eames has known Arthur a long, _long_ time. Long enough to know his real name is nowhere close to ‘Arthur’ and that he’s more than half a decade younger than most people who meet him assume. The only person Eames has known longer and better than Arthur is his own father. Eames knows all of Arthur’s expressions...yet this is something new. It’s a strange mix of loss and rage and guilt and maybe even a splash of fear.

“When?” is all Arthur says and Eames strains to hear what the other person on the phone may be saying. Arthur closes his eyes and Eames knows he’s not imagining the tremor in Arthur’s hand as he lifts it to rub at his eyes. Suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to reach out and comfort, Eames takes a cautious step back toward Arthur.

“I’ll meet him in Dublin,” Arthur croaks and Eames stops in his tracks. There are few places Eames absolutely refuses to travel. His reasons are varied - ranging from being a wanted fugitive (a relatively weak reason not to go somewhere, in Eames’ mind) to feeling haunted by the very landscape (Eames has many ghosts in many places). There is too much in Dublin to haunt Eames; Arthur knows this - Arthur had _been there_...and now he’s agreeing to go where he knows Eames cannot follow.

The mobile makes a heavy THUNK against the table when Arthur sets it down. Eames can’t help but gape at him. He wants to demand answers, to tell Arthur how incredibly _pissed_ he is that Arthur is more or less _ditching him_ after nearly three years of traveling together...

“Mal’s dead,” Arthur says suddenly, cutting Eames’ anger off. He continues to stare at Arthur, having no clue what to say. _Mal._ Whatever his issues with her husband, Eames has never stopped loving Mal. He can’t imagine a world without her in it.

“How?” he manages to croak out after a long moment.

“She fell...out of that hotel she and Cobb always stayed at. Cobb says she jumped...police think he pushed her...”

Eames sits heavily in the nearest chair. “She wasn’t the same; not after their little adventure in Limbo,” he says quietly. They’d met her for coffee in San Francisco just a few weeks ago. James had been on her hip, seemingly taking his mother’s frenzied rambling as normal. Eames had eased the child from his mother’s arms, showing the boy how to stick an ice cube to the table while Arthur had tried to prove to Mal they weren’t projections. She’d laughed, as if it’d all been a misunderstanding and she really didn’t believe she was dreaming it all up.

“That was Ross, on the phone,” Arthur says quietly, breaking into Eames’ thoughts. “Cobb’s fleeing the country. Doesn’t want the kids to see their father put on trial for murdering their mother...”

“...because watching him abandon them will be so much better...” Arthur gives him a look for interrupting, but Eames can tell by his expression that he doesn’t disagree.

“There’s a layover in Dublin,” Arthur explains finally. “Cobb’s never actually been a fugitive before...”

“...No, he always managed to get others to do the dirtiest of work, didn’t he?”

Arthur gives him the same half-glare of agreement. “He’s never been a fugitive before,” he repeats. “He has no clue what he’s doing...”

Eames stands quickly. “Neither of us owe that man a damn thing,” he hisses. They both carry a multitude of scars whose origins lie in the schemes of Dom Cobb.

Arthur stands a little more slowly, but he closes the distance between them. “We owe Mal,” he says quietly. “We owe it to her kids to make sure their father doesn’t get himself killed.” Eames looks away. It’s been a long time since he’s truly been angry with Arthur. The other man’s asking a lot of him; too much, really.

“I can’t,” Eames whispers, taking a step back. He forces himself to face Arthur’s look of disappointment. “I understand your need to go, but please don’t ask me to do the same,” he says quietly. He really isn’t surprised that Cobb is taking something else from him.

Arthur reaches out and twines their fingers together. Eames glances at their hands before he meets Arthur eyes. “I have to go,” Arthur says. He doesn’t plead with Eames to understand and that’s the only reason Eames is able to give a nod and squeeze Arthur’s hands in return. They’ve never forbidden each other anything.

“How soon are you leaving?” he asks quietly.

“Too soon,” Arthur replies, leaning in to kiss him.

Eames presses his forehead to Arthur’s once their lips part. “I have no love for Cobb,” he says quietly. “But if _you_ have need of me...” Arthur’s lips quirk up in a small smile before he kisses Eames again.

“I always thought if we needed to put the contingency plan to use, it would be because one of _us_ got into trouble,” Arthur comments. Eames laughs as they break apart.

“Love, we’ve been in trouble for _years_ now,” he says as he watches Arthur begin packing his belongings. Arthur gives him a brief, fond look as he slides his laptop into its bag.

“Any idea where you’ll head?” Arthur asks when Eames hands him a random shoe.

“May head to Berlin to check on Rita. Yusuf’s still on me to visit Mombasa. I’m sure I’ll end up there, eventually. We’ve still got that flat across from that godawful casino...”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “That has always been _your_ flat, Mr. Eames.” He pauses in his packing to take a deep breath. “If you end up near L.A....”

“...I’ll check on the kids,” Eames agrees quietly. “I’m guessing Marie’s taken charge?”

“Ross thinks if Cobb hadn’t left, Marie would have forced him out.”

“Well...she has always liked me best, hasn’t she?”

Arthur’s bags are packed and he comes to Eames again, kissing him for a long moment. Eames can’t even really remember the last time he had to say goodbye to Arthur, not for more than a night’s worth of recon work, at least. Right now, he has no clue how long it’s going to be before he sees the other man again.

Arthur pulls away abruptly and Eames recalls how much the other man _loathes_ farewells. “I promise not to change my number,” Arthur says with a weak, half-hearted smile. He turns away to grab his bags and is out the door without giving Eames the chance to say anything more.

\---

Mal was the one who convinced them to leave their respective militaries. They knew her father had intimate knowledge of the goings-on within the chain of command so when Mal used a shared dream as an opportunity to warn them of their governments’ plan to silence the early experimental group, Arthur and Eames trusted her.

Two weeks later, from a shack in the south of France, they heard about the “tragic training accident” that had killed fourteen people at their former base.

They let Mal walk around smugly for days.

\---

Eames does go to Berlin. Rita has the latest batch of fake IDs ready for him and he takes a day dispersing them as they need to be dispersed to various post boxes around the world. Rita starts to hand him Arthur’s as well, but Eames merely pushes them back with a sad smile.

“We’re travelling apart for a bit,” he tells her. Eames leaves her townhouse quickly in order to escape her sympathetic look.

\---

Eames and Arthur weren’t immediately lovers. They’d started out as rivals, forced to work together under threat of court-martial. Mal’s situation hadn’t been any different but she’d declared on their first meeting that they were all too gorgeous not to get along spectacularly.

They both fell in love with her long before they fell in love with each other.

The three of them went on the run together. Where Arthur and Eames had been combat soldiers, Mal had been military intelligence. Her contacts throughout Europe and Asia were more than willing to help her along the path to becoming a rouge agent. Arthur and Eames merely tagged along after her, not knowing where else to go or what else to do. Neither of them would have made it on their own - not during those first few months.

\---

He catches the most immediate flight to Los Angeles, suffering through and excessively horrid coach experience because it was the first ticket available.

Marie glares at him when she opens the door. To say she’s always liked Eames best is not to say she actually _likes_ him. She’s never cared much for any of them. She’s just always seemed to tolerate Eames best.

“Did he send you?” she demands immediately.

“If he’d asked, I never would have come,” Eames answers truthfully, having no doubt that the ‘he’ in question is Cobb.

James is taking a nap, Marie tells him, but Eames finds Philippa in the living room, playing quietly with a lego set. Her face lights up when she sees Eames and he smiles for her as he crouches down, hugging her close.

“Where’s Uncle Arthur?” the little girl asks, looking around him in confusion.

“He had a few things to do,” Eames says. “Very important things. I told him I’d give you this, though.” Eames pulls her into another hug, earning a giggle when he blows a raspberry against her neck. She squirms away from him and drags him over to help her finish building her little plastic house.

Eames spends the afternoon following the whims of Mal’s children. He’s always been amazed by the resiliency of children and the Cobb siblings are no different. Less than two weeks after their mother’s death and they seem as capable of laughing as ever before.

Eames manages to charm Marie into letting him stay for dinner and he nearly dozes off with the children as they watch _Toy Story_ before bed.

“Mallorie said the children adored you,” Marie says quietly after he’s tucked Philippa into bed.

“Arthur claims it’s the similarity in maturity level.” Marie shows no reaction to the comment. With a sigh, Eames reaches into his pocket to pull out one of his cards. “I know you’re not without your resources, but if you need anything...” Marie’s expression remains neutral, but she accepts the card.

Eames doesn’t even bother with a hotel; he catches the next flight to Europe that has a first class seat available and finds himself on his way to Madrid.

\---

Cobb was an...inconvenience. He’d been a civilian contractor in Afghanistan, brought in to help build a military base and a building or two. Both Eames and Arthur had met him there first. Mal had met him even before that; a former student of her father’s, she’d said. It was Miles who’d suggested Cobb as a contractor for the Dream Project.

While Arthur and Eames and Mal had all been confined to the base, Cobb had been able to come and go as he’d pleased. He wasn’t around for the more brutal experiments. He taught the dreamers the structures and then he went home to whatever cozy little place he’d made for himself.

To say that Arthur and Eames were bitter would have been an understatement. Eames hadn’t even been granted leave when his father had died, two weeks into the experiment, and Cobb got to go home at the end of the day, every day.

When Cobb found them in Luxembourg, eight months after the Dream Project had been ended by that “training accident,” Arthur and Eames were both more than ready to put a bullet in his head to clean up a loose tie.

Mal convinced them Cobb was as much a victim as they had been. They tolerated the man for her sake and her sake only.

\---

He and Arthur chat on the phone every few days if they have the time and the risk of the call being traced is relatively low. Mostly they text.

Eames knows that Cobb’s gone a bit off the deep end. Arthur and Cobb have gone under a few times and Mal’s been there, but she’s not a Mal Arthur has ever known.

“She’s...cruel,” Arthur says quietly over the phone one evening after a particularly vicious dream. “She stabbed me in the gut; twisted the knife on the way out.” Eames’ grip on his phone tightens.

“Where the hell was Cobb?” he demands.

“He says he got caught by some other projections.” Eames can hear the doubt in Arthur’s tone.

“You don’t owe Mal this much,” Eames says in a whisper. “The real her would never put you through this...”

They have the same conversation a few times. Eames finally makes it to Mombasa and Yusuf and really, really good homemade booze (sometimes Eames wonders why his old friend wastes his time in illegal trade when could have a serious run at a brewery).

“Cobb is obviously suffering from some sort of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder brought on by witnessing the death of his wife,” Yusuf offers as he pours Eames yet another glass.

“Yes, thank you Yusuf. I’d forgotten everything we learned in the _exact same_ psychology course,” Eames snaps back. Yusuf gives him a small glare, but coming from Yusuf, Eames knows there isn’t much true heat behind it. The man’s about as aggressive as the kittens that sleep beneath his countertop.

Cobb and Arthur pull a few widely talked about jobs. They piss off all the people they shouldn’t piss off and they work with architects who have no business being in the business in the first place. Eames follows their exploits closely and tries to assure himself that there’s no one in the world more capable than Arthur.

He can’t shrug off the concern when Arthur tells him Cobb’s accepted a job for Cobol.

“So, you’ve gone mad now too, then?” Eames says over the phone.

“He’s trying to double dip,” Arthur says. Eames can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “The executive they want us to extract from has extensive contracts with the American government.”

“Cobb thinks he can buy immunity?”

“I don’t know what the fuck he’s thinking anymore.” They slip into a brief silence. “If we were to need a forger...?” Arthur whispers.

“I am always at your service, darling,” Eames tells him. He could not care less about what may happen to Cobb, but there’s no way he could abandon Arthur.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Eames.”

\---

As much as they didn’t like Cobb, or even trusted him all that much, they had to admit he loved Mal. They’d loved her longer, but he loved her like a man obsessed. Mal was the type of woman who needed that kind of love. She thrived under it.

Their marriage complicated things. Cobb liked control in all aspects of his life, not just in his architecture. He ordered Arthur and Eames about like they were tools to be used as he pleased.

Arthur was the first to wind up in a hospital.

Eames was the first to walk away.

\---

He blames Cobb when Arthur takes a bullet in the shoulder a week later.

“Don’t you dare fly out here,” Arthur hisses down the line. “It’s just a scratch; I’m fine. I really don’t need you showing up on Cobol’s radar.”

“Enjoying your time on it yourself?” Eames snaps back. He hears Arthur’s tired sigh come down the line.

“They’re offering us another job to set things right. We finish it, they pay us, everyone goes home happy.”

Eames ends the call on an angry note, pissed that Arthur now seems to be putting Cobb’s well-being above his own.

After an hour of pacing, Eames decides it’s time he steps in and gets Cobb the hell away from his Arthur. He picks up his cell phone again and punches in a number he’s been saving for an emergency.

“Mr. Saito - I have a proposal for you.”

\---

Mal had had all the contacts at the start, but Eames had been the best at cultivating new ones. He knew people, understood them on a fundamental level. Mal relied on charm and flirtation almost exclusively, Eames used such things merely as a cover to deliver the sense of deeper understanding so many people craved.

He did fine on his own; befriended all the right people and stayed out of the way of the ones that would bring about a very painful death for him.

The reputation he’d built with Arthur and Mal, and even Cobb, had certainly helped, but Eames quickly built up a reputation that relied on no one but himself.

\---

Eames honestly hadn’t expected to be pulled into his own scheme. He spends a long time staring at Arthur’s latest text (“when he asks it’s for me not him”) and he _knows_ , even before he hears that voice behind him, he knows that Cobb is going to recruit him for his and Saito’s little game.

Saito, at least, looks like he’s having fun. And Yusuf looks mostly excited about the idea of working with the three biggest names in the business, even if his last collaboration with two of them had ended in his temporary incarceration.

When they first arrive at the warehouse, Eames actively avoids looking at Arthur. They’ve been apart for _months_ now and he’s sure as soon as he so much as glances at the point man he’ll lose all self-control and pin the man to the nearest horizontal surface. The new architect, Ariadne, is delightful to flirt with, anyway. She’s so very young and inquisitive, but she calls his bullshit quickly and willingly. It’s a bit refreshing, really.

Saito excuses himself after an hour and soon after Yusuf awkwardly manages to ask Ariadne to show him around the neighborhood. Cobb grumbles about lost planning time, but ventures off to another corner of the open floor.

Eames still keeps his gaze away from Arthur, but he moves as close as he dares to set a key card on the table between them. “Saito’s booked us a block of rooms at the Ritz,” he tells Arthur quietly. “I fear I’ve caught a touch of jet lag.”

\---

Eames had honestly enjoyed working on his own. It had been a pleasure to take on jobs based on where _he_ had wanted to go. If he wound up a little bruised and battered after a job he at least walked away with the knowledge that he’d put himself in that position. He had no desire to ever again risk his life for someone else’s urges.

Most of his life had been shaped by the whims and orders of others and he reveled in his new-found autonomy.

\---

Arthur joins him at the hotel much sooner than Eames expected. Eames hears the lock disengage and he stands quickly to greet the other man.

They stare at each other for a moment. Eames’ chest aches when he sees the tension radiating from Arthur. He can’t resist moving forward and pulling Arthur into a fierce hug. Arthur stays rigid for a moment, but then he sighs and relaxes, his arms coming up around Eames as he presses his face into the forger’s neck. They’ve always fit so well together like this.

After a long moment of hugging, Eames pulls back enough they can kiss. It’s different from what he’d expected; it’s not the frenzied kiss of two men who haven’t had sex in nearly a year - it’s more an affirmation that they’re together again, lips moving slowly together with no explicit intent.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Eames whispers when they break for breath. Arthur smiles and kisses him again, changing the tone to something a little more heated.

They undress each other slowly, walking sideways toward the bed. Eames pauses once he’s got the shirt off Arthur, his gaze locked on the nearly-healed wound on Arthur’s right arm. It really does look as if the original wound had been relatively minor. Still, Eames can’t help but think what may have happened if the wound hadn’t been so superficial.

“Stop thinking,” Arthur says as he divests Eames of his undershirt. It’s really not hard to obey such an order when Arthur’s hands slide lower.

\---

When Arthur had shown up at what Eames had thought was his most secretive of flats in Liverpool, Eames had been so baffled his brain hadn’t fully finished processing Arthur’s presence until the other man had invited himself in and settled down on the settee. Two years since he’d seen the man and he just waltzed on in and made himself at home. (It’d stirred something suspiciously warm in Eames’ gut.)

Cobb had gotten worse, Arthur had said. The new baby had made him paranoid, obsessed with the Last Big Job so that he and Mal could retire and live happily-ever-after. It was only when Arthur had spoken that Eames had noticed the bruises.

Eames held no regrets from demanding Arthur stay with him. He’d valued his autonomy, but he and Arthur had only ever been equals. They’d work something out.

\---

Eames wakes when the mattress shifts next to him. The light is dim, but it’s enough to make out the paleness of Arthur’s naked back as he walks across the room.

“I thought I was the one with the reputation for ditiching in the middle of the night,” Eames says as he props himself up on one elbow. To his credit, Arthur doesn’t startle at the sound of his voice. He merely sighs as he pulls on his boxer briefs.

“Can’t sleep,” the point man says. He crosses the room again to sit on the edge of the bed. Eames sits up fully to place a kiss on Arthur’s shoulder.

“You’re exhausted, love,” Eames whispers. Arthur leans back against him. “If Saito can’t fix things for Cobb, this has to be it for you.”

Arthur stays silent for a moment before he nods. “I’ve missed you,” he admits in a whisper, turning his head to kiss Eames.

“Don’t worry,” Eames murmurs against his lips. “I’m not leaving here without you.”

\---

They built a name for themselves, he and Arthur. Eames had already become well-known as a solo act and Arthur had been regarded as one of the best point men in the business as he’d worked with the Cobbs. Once Eames and Arthur began travelling and working together, they became the most sought-after duo in the business. Arthur was meticulous and Eames could charm his way into or out of anything.

Wherever one went, the other followed, and those in the know learned very quickly not to harm, anger, or even threaten one or else they’d face the wrath of the other.

\---

There’s too much work to be done over the next few days for Eames to truly be able to enjoy Arthur’s presence. He settles for being as obnoxious as possible and enjoying every moment Arthur glares at him in return.

Yusuf joins in on the fun, recruiting Arthur as a guinea pig for mostly pointless experiments. Eames has a feeling his motives lie more in revenge for the time he spent in prison than his desire to help Eames.

\---

Eames and Yusuf had gone to university together. They hadn’t been the best of mates, but they hadn’t been enemies either. So when Eames had heard his former classmate had set up a little shop in Mombasa...

He honestly hadn’t expected to wind up behind bars for that particular job. He never would have involved Yusuf if he had known. He’d been forced to spend four hours in a too-small cell with a slow-to-clot nosebleed and a ranting chemist until Arthur had finally shown up, smirking as he’d arranged their release.

\---

Eames is _beyond_ pissed, at both Cobb and Yusuf, but mostly Cobb. He sees that Arthur doesn’t immediately follow Cobb toward the room they’re holding Fischer in and he knows that Arthur’s trying to find somewhere to catch a deep breath and maybe punch a wall before he does something entirely unprofessional like land a blow against Cobb’s face. Arthur’s generally better at controlling his temper, especially during a job, but Eames knows how exhausted he is; how he’s bounced from job to job with virtually no rest for nearly a year.

Leaving Yusuf and Ariadne to do what they can for Saito, Eames follows Arthur into one of the side rooms. It’s so very obvious how close the point man is to losing it to his own anger; Arthur needs this breather to take control of himself before he can do the job Cobb’s asked of him. The rage Eames feels toward Cobb doubles when Arthur turns to him with a tight, closed-off expression.

“It’s my fault,” Arthur whispers, his voice clipped with anger and full of self-admonition

Eames steps to him quickly, taking his face gently in his hands. “No, darling,” he insists. “I saw your research; you were excruciatingly thorough, as always. You couldn’t have known. Especially not about Cobb and Yusuf’s little deal.” Eames plans on having several words with Yusuf when all this is over.

“If you get killed...” Eames shuts Arthur up with a kiss.

“I’ll manage, love,” he promises. “And if you get killed, I’ll follow you into Limbo and drag you back out like some bloody Greek myth.” Arthur laughs weakly, his hands coming up to wrap around Eames’ wrists as they press their foreheads together.

“Oh!” They both turn to the door quickly to find Ariadne standing there. She’s obviously trying to look contrite for walking in on their private moment, but Eames recognizes a smirk when he sees one.

“Cobb’s looking for you,” she tells Arthur. Arthur glances briefly at Eames before he pulls away and strides out of the room, all business once again.

“So...” Ariadne begins, her smirk more noticeable. “Just how good is he in bed?”

Eames grins as he walks for the door. “You know what they say about the quiet ones, m’dear...”

\---

Their first job once they’d both left the Cobbs did not end well. It hadn’t actually been Arthur’s fault. Some marks hid their sadism too well.

They’d set the timer for a full day in the dreamscape. Eames lasted nearly twelve hours being tortured by the mark who apparently dreamt of strapping his co-workers to surgical tables and taking them apart, piece-by-piece. Arthur had been forced to watch the entire thing, strapped to his own table and unable to do a damn thing.

As soon as he’d gasped awake topside, Eames had fumbled for the emergency stop button on the PASIV. He’d still been trying to calm his battered nerves when Arthur had put a bullet in the still-sedated mark’s head.

Eames had tried to ease Arthur’s guilt to assure him he’d had no way of knowing the mark was a sociopath, but the assurances failed in their task when Eames hadn’t been able to stop his roiling stomach from heaving in the nearest trash bin.

\---

As he sits on the rocky shore with Fischer, Eames watches the water anxiously. He’s listening closely enough to his companion to know the inception job on Fischer’s worked, but his mind is focused on finding out if Arthur’s okay. He’s been on his own in that hotel...

Eames can’t see anything in the water, but he can feel the pull toward wakefulness. In a few moments, he’ll find out one way or another...

\---

In their line of work, it’d be an understatement to say they’ve had a few close calls.

The worst had been in Brazil, barely eight months before Mal’s death. A job had gone sour when their architect had sold them out and Arthur and Eames had been forced to split up in the middle of an open-air market.

It’d taken two days for them to find each other again and Eames had only been halfway joking when he’d said he needed to plant a tracking device under Arthur’s skin.

\---

He hates the moment of disorientation that comes with waking from the PASIV. As soon as he’s able, he turns his head and seeks out Arthur. Arthur blinks back at him and Eames can’t help but grin.

\---

Cobb had never technically been a fugitive, not like the rest of them. His status as merely “a person of interest” and the connections of Mal’s family had made it possible for them to build a nearly normal life. Once both Eames and Arthur had left them, they’d started a family, settled down in California.

An invitation to their daughter’s second birthday party was the first contact Arthur and Eames had had with the Cobb’s since they’d parted ways. They went, for Mal’s sake, and fell just as head-over-heels for her daughter. From then on, they passed through L.A. as often as they could.

It helped that Cobb never looked that thrilled to see them.

\---

Eames knows Arthur has never given up his condo in L.A. It’s been more than two years since they’ve been here together, but Eames finds it easily enough. Knowing Arthur will be the last to leave the airport, Eames picks the lock and lets himself in.

It makes him smile to enter a space that’s so obviously _Arthur’s_. He’s less tidy in his own home than the image he projects in public, but there’s still a significant level of organization to the place. Eames can count on where the most important things will be (things like the television remote and the good liquor).

Eames stows his bags in the bedroom before settling in on the sofa with a glass of surprisingly good whisky and a random program on the telly.

\---

They will never actually, _legally_ , get married. Their original, legal, identities were destroyed by their governments a very long time ago.

A closer look at each of their numerous aliases, however, will turn up overlapping surnames, identical places of residence, and reciprocal emergency contacts. It’s a clear declaration in the dream-sharing community and no one has yet been brave enough to question their motives.

\---

Arthur shows up half an hour later, looking weary and just slightly lost. He nods a tired greeting at Eames before he disappears into the bedroom with his own luggage. Eames leans forward to reach the bottle he’d placed on the coffee table, replenishing his drink and pouring a generous amount in a second glass for Arthur.

Neither man speaks when Arthur reemerges a few minutes later. Arthur picks up the glass Eames had poured for him and settles on the sofa next to him, close enough their shoulders brush. It’s not long before Arthur’s relaxed against him and when his breathing starts to even out, Eames drops a kiss on the head that’s come to rest on his shoulder. Arthur tenses, just slightly, head coming up so he can blink sleepily at Eames.

“You should go to bed, love,” Eames murmurs, his hand coming up to smooth a stray hair on Arthur’s head. He’d managed to get Arthur to sleep a few times during the planning stages of the job, but the past couple of nights Arthur had avoided any non-PASIV induced sleep. And any dream-sharer knows quite well that PASIV sleep barely counts in terms of actual rest. Arthur’s sleep-debt is undoubtedly massive.

“Don’t wanna get up,” Arthur mumbles around a yawn. He drops his head back to Eames’ shoulder, nuzzling until his nose is pressed up close to the forger’s neck. Eames smiles to himself and presses another kiss into Arthur’s hair.

“We’re soon to be very rich and infamous men, darling,” Eames murmurs. “Men of our stature should not be reduced to sleeping on sofas.”

Arthur gives a grunt that could either be agreement or annoyance, but he makes no attempt at movement. Eames smiles and settles deeper into the cushions, his feet propped up on the coffee table. “I suppose we can always be proper gentlemen tomorrow.”

In the morning, he’ll call Saito, thank him for his assistance. He’ll apologize for Saito’s trip to Limbo if he needs to, but he has a feeling it will be unnecessary - he’s just saved the man _billions_ , after all. Saito will thank him, Cobb will thank Arthur, and they’ll all live happily ever after, with loads of money to ease the way.

“You’re gloating too loud,” Arthur grumbles into his neck. Eames grins to himself and closes his eyes.

“Just let me be ridiculously pleased with myself for a bit, darling. I’ll be modest again in the morning.”

Eames isn’t entirely sure if Arthur snorts or snores at that, but he’s already half asleep himself and far from caring.

/end


End file.
